Gladiators
by AmbrosiaD
Summary: Daryl and Merle imprisoned in Woodbury and working out some stuff. Rated T for Dixon potty mouths. A mention of Caryl in their "chat."
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead. (If I did, we wouldn't be waiting until February for more!)

This is just a little ficlet that popped into my head this morning.

"He's my friend!" Andrea pleaded with the Governor.

"It's too late," he said over the crowds' murderous chant. "It's out of my hands."

"You're the Governor! Nothing is out of your hands! Phillip, if you feel anything for me at all, you've got to help Daryl. Please! I owe him."

"What the hell's he got on you?"

"I shot him once. It was an accident."

He couldn't stop the smile forming on his lips. "Thought you were good with a gun."

"I was just learning then," she explained defensively. "I could've killed him, and all he ever did was try to help. He's a good man. In spite of his brother."

The Governor sighed. "All I can do is stall."

"Then do it! Phillip, please!"

The Governor motioned with his hands to quiet the crowd.

"Friends," he said, "I have a much more entertaining idea. We don't have to kill them."

The crowd started to boo.

"Hear me out now," he shouted. "Wouldn't it be more poetic to make them kill each other?"

Back on his side, the crowd began cheering.

"Let's let these brothers rest up a bit, and tomorrow at sundown, we let them fight it out right here. To the death."

The crowd roared.

Merle and Daryl were placed in adjoining cells in what was once the town's old drunk tank.

"Well this is a fine fuckin' mess you got us in, little brother," said Merle.

"Me? The only stupid thing I did was stay here in Mayberry tryin' to find your sorry ass."

"That's what I mean. Shoulda high-tailed it outta here when you had the chance. Gone back to your little butt buddy Rick."

"Are you really the one that fucked up Glenn?"

"Who?"

"Glenn. He said you tortured him and you was gonna execute him and Maggie. That true?"

"You mean the Chinaman?"

"His name is Glenn. And he's Korean."

"Damn, you really have turned into a pussy ass motherfucker without me around."

"Forget Glenn—would you really shoot a fuckin' chick in the back of the head?"

"World's changed, Darlena."

"But you haven't. Least not for the better."

"Oh—you the better man now, Darlena?"

"Always was. When I was 12 years old I was a better man than you."

"What're you talkin' 'bout?"

"Mama's funeral. They let you out of juvie for it. And you went off and got high instead of sayin' goodbye to your own mama. Old man was off buryin' his misery in some whore. I was the fuckin' man of the house. I was the one standin' there listenin' to some dumb ass preacher talkin' over her like he knew any goddamn thing about her. I was the one tossin' handfuls of dirt in a fuckin' hole. You were off doin' what you've always done. Thinkin' o' nobody but your damn self."

"Well, now—you feel better after your little speech?" Merle smirked.

"No. You know when I started to feel better? After you fuckin' left."

"You mean after your boyfriend Rick left me on that roof?"

"No. You left. We came lookin' for you. I came lookin' for you. You left. Took our fuckin' van too."

"I saw you, ya know."

"When?"

"Saw you with them assholes."

"You knew I was lookin' for you and you still left?"

"Hell yeah. A real brother woulda taken those fuckers out for what they did to me. But no, there was Darlena hangin' out with 'em like they was your damn family."

"Family?" Daryl spat. "You don't know the meanin' of the fuckin' word."

"Oh—you in the fuckin' Waltons now, John Boy? Rick your pa now? That gray-haired chick your ma?"

"You shut your fuckin' mouth about Carol."

"Oooo-weee! Carol now, is it? Darlena has a tell. Damn boy, I thought I taught you poker better than that."

"Fuck you."

"So does her husband know you're fuckin' her?"

"She took an axe to his skull, which is what I plan on doin' to you tomorrow."


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: So here is the conclusion to my little ficlet. Sorry if it's not quite as exciting as the title implies. The title was inspired by my husband asking me if I had any midseason finale predictions and I said, "Three words: Dixon gladiator fight." But I could never hurt my baby Daryl! And there is a certain character that I wanted to give a wake-up call and a little redemption.

Daryl was wide awake. Merle was sound asleep, as usual. Nothing ever kept the older Dixon up—not even the thought of having to fight his own brother to the death. Daryl used to wonder how he could sleep so soundly. He knew now: Merle had never been bothered by something so insignificant as a pesky conscience.

Daryl, on the other hand—he could hardly blink without seeing all his failures flash before his eyes. Sure, he talked a good game, but the truth was, his mama probably wouldn't have died if he'd been there. No, he just had to go out and play with the other kids—something Merle would never have allowed him to do if he hadn't been locked up.

And Sophia—God, some fucking tracker he was. She got bit because he didn't find her fast enough. Then she was right there in the damn barn while he was off fucking around miles away, hallucinating Merle. Fucking Merle. It always came back to him.

Merle was his last blood relative on earth. But that was true before the world went to shit. The more things changed, the more they stayed the same. Merle didn't want Daryl. But he didn't want anyone else to have him either. Jesus, Daryl realized—he wasn't Darlena. He was Esther fucking Crowley. Esther was this cute, chunky girl from the neighborhood—the kind of girl with jet black bangs and big white calves. Merle always went to her when he was having a dry spell, or more accurately, when his other girls got tired of putting up with his shit. To Merle, Esther didn't exist outside of his interactions with her. But she had to be there—or she'd be sorry—whenever he bothered to show up on her doorstep.

Daryl used to wonder why she put up with it. But he'd been doing the exact same thing his entire life. He always had to drop whatever he was doing and be there for Merle. Sometimes he justified it by remembering that Merle had taken a few beatings for him from their old man. He owed him. But in reality, Merle liked to fight. And Merle didn't do anybody any favors. Other times, Daryl told himself that Merle needed him. He supposed most people—semi-normal people, not Merle— just wanted to feel needed. And they would satisfy that need in any fucked up way they could, even to their own detriment. And the more fucked up a person was, the less capable they were of distinguishing a legitimate need from a fucked up one.

"I need you!" Rick had insisted. He should've gone with him. The group did need him, more than ever with these Woodbury assholes as a threat. Daryl had said it before. Rick had always done right by him. But despite his heartfelt thanks to Daryl on their way to Woodbury, Rick still was obviously not right in the head yet. Maybe he never would be. And if he lost his shit again, how was he gonna defend the prison? And who the hell was gonna be there for Little Asskicker? Carol couldn't be both mama and daddy.

_Carol_. Fuck. He couldn't even take his own damn advice. "Stay safe." And that was the best thing he could come up with to say before he left? Stay safe? But she had to know. He sure as shit wasn't saying "Goodbye" to her anymore. He'd said all the goodbyes he was ever gonna say to her at a fucking empty grave. No, there was other shit he needed to say to her. Wanted to say. But… After everything that had happened, he was still fool enough to believe there'd be more time. And now he'd gone and fucked it up for this sorry one-handed bastard.

Despite Merle's loud snoring, Daryl's ears detected the sound of a door quietly opening and shutting. He was more curious than worried. The Governor's men wouldn't feel the need to be quiet.

"You've got five minutes to explain to me what's going on before I change my mind."

"Well, if it ain't Annie Oakley. Or are you the First Lady now?"

"Look," said Andrea, "I expect that kind of shit from your brother, but—"

"Listen," Daryl cut her off. "That fucker there is the Asshole Formerly Known As My Brother. As for me explaining, maybe you should explain what you're doin' with the crazy fucker that kept Glenn and Maggie prisoner."

"Glenn? Maggie? Prisoner?"

"Is there a fuckin' echo in here? Yes. Maggie and Glenn go out on a formula run for the baby—"

"Lori had the baby?"

"Shut up and listen! They didn't come back. Then this black chick with dreadlocks shows up—"

"Michonne."

"Yeah. She shows up and says your boyfriend sent Ol' Lefty here to kill her. Shot her in the thigh, but she got away. Then he grabs Glenn and Maggie and brings 'em back here to be tortured and almost killed."

"So that's why you invaded."

"Invaded? You think you're the fuckin' United Nations now or somethin'? We just wanted our people back."

"I'm sorry. I didn't know. I didn't know anything. I guess I didn't want to know."

"Where's your boyfriend?"

"We have some pretty good drugs in the infirmary. He's passed out on morphine for his eye."

"What are you gonna do?"

"I'm going to get you out of here." She took a ring of keys from her pocket and opened the cell.

"You got any weapons and ammo?" he asked.

"I'm sorry—have we met? Of course I have weapons and ammo. I got your crossbow too."

"So all that 'you got five minutes to explain' was bullshit? You were gonna let me go all along."

"You? Yes. Him?" she said, gesturing toward Merle, "I wasn't sure. What do you want to do with him?"

"Leave his ass. I'm done."

With the "terrorist threat" seemingly over for the night, it was quite easy to slip out of Woodbury. Looking back, Andrea hesitated.

"You comin' or what?" Daryl asked.

"Do you think they would take me back?"

"Why wouldn't they?"

"Michonne…"

"I don't know what happened with you two. But if the guy you shot in the head can forgive you, she'll come around. Now let's get the fuck outta here."

He knew they didn't have time to waste with the Governor making retaliation plans for the prison. They had to get back by morning at the latest.

It was almost dawn and they had just fought off their second batch of Walkers.

"Gotta keep movin'," Daryl said.

"Please. Just a minute," Andrea panted.

"Looks like all that Woodbury time done made you soft."

"Thanks a lot." She caught her breath. "No, seriously. I should say thank you."

"For what?" Daryl asked. "You saved me."

"Yes. But you kind of saved me, too."

She moved in for a hug.

Daryl was only starting to get used to these apparently casual human behaviors like hugs and pats on the back, and he consciously tried not to flinch. But then she didn't let go. He wasn't quite up to speed on what was normal, but when her hands started stroking his back up and down and her hips started pressing into him, he had a pretty good idea where this was going.

"Whoa," he said, peeling her arms off of him.

"What? What's wrong?" she asked.

"I'm gon' tell it to you straight, Andrea. First of all, I'm spoken for."

"What? Spoken for? Who?"

"Carol."

"Carol? Since when?"

"I don't know. Since forever—doesn't fuckin' matter. I ain't done sayin' what I gotta say, if you'll let me finish."

"Go ahead."

"Second of all, unlike some assholes who'll remain nameless, I know how to be a good brother. So I'm just gonna say it. Girl, you need to get some fuckin' self esteem or somethin'. This shit has got to stop."

"What shit are you talking about?"

"You gettin' dickmatized. First Shane, then Captain Crazy Ass? 'Scuse me if I don't feel flattered for the come-on, but that ain't a club I'd wanna join. No offense."

He thought she'd get in his face. Yell at him. Maybe try to slap him. He did not expect her to sink to the ground and put her head in her hands.

"You're right. You're right. What the hell is wrong with me?"

"Look, I ain't tryin' to shame ya. But I can't take ya back if ya can't get your shit together. It ain't like it was before. We're a unit now. Ain't no place for bitchin' and moanin' and arguin' over shit. Think you can handle that?"

"Yes," she said, and reached her hand out to him.

He pulled her up from the ground and she stepped in closer.

"Let's just shake on it," he said.

"Fair enough," she replied. "God, I have the worst fucking taste in men. Present company excluded, of course. The guy had aquariums full of severed heads and his zombie kid in a cage."

"And yet, you hit that."

"I'm afraid so," she said. "Guess we better get a move on."

"It ain't too much farther."

They continued on their way toward the prison.

"So you and Carol, huh?" she said.

"Yep."

"So how's that going?" she asked.

"I ain't gonna gossip like no hen about it."

"Sorry. Guess I'm used to sisters. I've never had a big brother before."

"Well you could fuckin' use one."

She stopped for a moment and bent over to tie her shoe. Even in the dim light, Daryl could clearly make out the "whale tale" of a thong sticking out of her pants.

"Girl, you could also use some fuckin' underwear."


End file.
